


Obedient (For You and You Alone)

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [19]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “Oh, darling,” it sounds wrong, wrongwrongwrong, the endearment tinged black from Joseph’s lips. “Were you feeling a bit neglected?”





	Obedient (For You and You Alone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rospeaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rospeaks/gifts).



This is almost certainly a trap. Rook should know, he’s been trapped enough times that it’s almost amusing at this point. What else is he supposed to do, though? Jacob and John are particularly good at capturing him when they want to see him, Faith can drag him into the Bliss at will, or so it seems.

It makes him shudder to think how quickly Joseph could have Rook brought to him if he tried to run. 

Still, he keeps his hand hovering near his side, over his pistol, as he strides through the front gates. The Peggies of the compound seem just as agitated with his presence as they were before, though they’re far quieter about their hate. Not that Rook thinks he could clearly hear them anyhow with his ears ringing, nerves strung so tight he can hear the thumpthumpthump of his heart threatening to burst his eardrums. 

He’s given a clear shot to that fucking church once more, tromping down a path as eyes follow his every move. They’re not screaming at him for being a heretic or a sinner, but they’re certainly not silent.

“We should--”

“No. The Father says he passes untouched.”

“He has no place here!”

“That is not what The Father has proclaimed.”

Alright. Not ideal. Don’t get him wrong, Rook’s plenty glad he’s not having guns shoved in his face alongside spittle filled insults. But that everyone seems to be giving him a wide berth on Joseph’s orders makes him nervous.

What the fuck did he _say_ to them?

He wouldn't...He might. Joseph doesn’t seem the type to brag about his conquests but he’d seemed pretty fucking satisfied last time they’d seen each other; when Rook had ground to orgasm against his thigh with “Daddy” being the only word he was capable of whining out. Could he have mentioned it to his people?

Joseph’s fucked up but that’s a whole new level. Rook doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t think he could _stand_ considering it, since just the barest passing thought makes his stomach drop out. He lowers his head and walks faster, until he’s nearing the doors of the church.

Which are helpfully pulled open for him by a nearby Peggie who regards him with a strange sort of curiosity that Rook doesn’t like in the slightest. 

What the _fuck_ is going on?

Joseph’s up near the front when he slips inside, talking to a small group. Low enough that Rook can’t actually make out the words, so probably not more end of the world preaching. He tends to shout more when it comes to that, from all Rook’s heard. He glances up when Rook enters, beckons him close with a lazy wave of his hand, but doesn’t stop chatting.

Which is almost rude enough Rook is tempted to turn around and walk out. If not for his damn curiosity…

The longer he waits, the more everything ratchets up inside him. Rook goes from standing still just on the outside of Joseph’s little circle to fidgeting on his feet to outright pacing back and forth between the pews. Wandering up and down the aisle. He and Joseph haven’t spoken since that day in the cabin however many weeks ago now. There’s been no discussion on what happened--honestly, until he got the note asking him to come here, he’d thought Joseph was going to let him go.

Which is evidence enough that Rook’s taken one too many blows to the head.

But now he’s here and Joseph doesn’t _care_? Isn’t acknowledging him past the few times his eyes will shift over to whatever Rook’s doing to ease the tension before turning back to one of his little groupies? Who are all, of course, hanging on his every fucking word like it’s going to save their souls. Because they’re _idiots_ and Rook wants to punch every one of them in the back of the head. 

He sinks into a pew petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. Watching the group. The Peggies are rapturous, listening with wide eyes, occasionally melting under the brush of Joseph’s hands against their shoulders or arms. Rook feels something sour in his stomach, in the back of his throat, when a few edge even closer.

Maybe Joseph wasn’t thrown by his kink because it’s...normal? Maybe he’s not the only one? He’d said, that same night, that different people found different things within him. Maybe Rook’s not the only one to find a Daddy.

He pushes to his feet, cheeks burning red for no reason, throat closing tight. If Joseph brought him here to embarrass him, to tease him, to say something sharp and cutting like “Oh...did you think you were the only one?”, Rook is going to set this whole fucking church on fire. Burn it to ashes and dance in the aftermath as he does the same to this stupid compound.

Stupidstupidstupid. Why did he even entertain the idea Joseph was asking him here for a repeat? Why did he think in a million years a fucking _cult leader_ would be kind and gentle with a secret like this one? 

“Rook?” Joseph’s voice is lifted, aimed at his shoulders as he stalks towards the front doors. “Come here, please.”

Rook whirls in place, mouth open to start shouting, but it all freezes up when Joseph levels a look at him through the gathered. It’s sharp, commanding, so close to the stern affection that was there that night it steals the breath from his chest. He slumps, trudges obediently back towards the front of the church. 

“Privacy, if you would?” Joseph waves his people away, all of them taking care this time around not to shoulder check Rook as they disperse.

He’s pretty sure a few of them are tempted though, since he’s muttering insults under his breath with every step he takes. He winds up little more than a foot from Joseph when the door closes, shuts them in together alone. Joseph doesn’t say anything more, just regards him silently, head tipped just enough that Rook feels like a bug under a microscope.

Again with the fidgeting. Rook hasn’t been this antsy since he was literally getting shot at while trying to patch up wounds overseas. 

He tries and fails what feels like twenty times to open his mouth and ask. Ask what the fuck he’s doing here. Ask what Joseph wants. Ask who those people were, what they meant to Joseph, if they mean what he hopes he means to him. A thousand things that he can’t give voice to, can’t find the words for.

Until Joseph breaths a quiet “oh.” Reaches out carefully, rosary swinging from his palm, and grips a handful of his hair. Steps in so close Rook can feel his breath on his jaw as he pulls, exposes his throat, makes Rook claw fingers into his shirt for balance. 

“I know you have questions. But if you want something from your Daddy, you have to _ask_.”

“Oh my god,” Rook breathes, hard faster than he’s ever been in his life, knees just a touch too weak. 

Joseph huffs something, maybe amused, maybe offended at the blasphemy. He smooths his free hand down Rook’s side, like he’s a scared animal Joseph feels the need to comfort. All it does is sensitize him further, nerve endings lighting up as a palm metronomes up and down. 

“You were going to leave? After you’d come so far?”

“You didn’t--you were busy.” Rook lets some of the agitation through, if only to try and gain more stable footing. “Didn’t think you’d even notice if I left, too fucking busy with your followers.”

“Oh, darling,” it sounds wrong, wrongwrongwrong, the endearment tinged black from Joseph’s lips. “Were you feeling a bit neglected?”

“I fucking hate you.” Rook hisses, snaps, thrashing against Joseph’s hold and getting nowhere for his efforts.

Joseph just holds him in place. Suspends him there with a light grip on his hair and that hand still swiping over his side. Rook can’t get the energy to walk away, can’t make himself tear free. He looks at Rook, amused, a small smile bending the corners of his mouth as he patiently waits for Rook to sag in exhaustion. 

Like he knows this is just a fit for propriety's sake. Like he knows Rook is going to eventually give in. 

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“You didn’t bring me anywhere. A stolen ATV and a road brought me here.”

“Rook.” Joseph’s eyes narrow, like he’s growing annoyed with the constant fighting.

It’s enough to make him give up. Going limp in one last attempt to break free. It doesn’t work, Joseph simply tugs him in, props Rook against his body, hand on his side clamping down to keep him upright. 

Not that the fingers buried in his hair would let him collapse anyhow, without losing a few strands in the process.

“I brought you here in an attempt to ensure you weren’t feeling neglected. Clearly, none of my other messages to you got through.”

“You could’ve called.” Rook points out. “Had you not, y’know, cut all the phone lines in and out of the Valley.”

“Quiet.” Joseph gives him a shake, like he’s reprimanding a puppy, and Rook hates how his voice freezes in his throat. “I do not intend to spend what little time I imagine we have together dealing with your attitude.”

“I didn’t--”

“I thought we covered this last time.” Joseph pushes and Rook can do little to stop the ways his knees buckle, sending him to the ground with a bang that resonates in the quiet of the church. “You are to _behave_ for me. And if you are good, I’ll give you everything you want.”

Rook glares up at him but stays silent. He doesn’t truly want to argue, not with his brain still spinning, envy churning in his gut. A part of him wants to scream and rail against Joseph, just like he usually does--like he usually _did_. Another part simply wants to see where Joseph will lead him. 

Fucking kink. He knew it was going to be the death of him someday. He just figured it would be a Grindr hookup gone wrong, not...whatever the hell this is.

“Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Rook murmurs, tipping his gaze to the floor when his throat clamps tightly around the words.

Joseph sighs and it’s almost harsh enough that Rook winces. Some deep sort of maybe-not quite-disappointment there. Like Joseph wanted the response but didn’t want it that way or something. It’s enough to have his head spinning, confusion warring as his shoulders curl, emotions strung too tightly around all of this to deal with any sign of disinterest or displeasure. 

“Oh, darling.” Joseph breathes, pulls until Rook’s face is tucked into his hip, nuzzled there like some sort of treasured pet. “Please don’t think I’m upset with you. I’m merely...well. I may say I dislike my misbehaving little one, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Your fire is simply one more way you enchant me.”

“Don’t wanna be bad,” Rook says against the waistband of Joseph’s jeans. “I’d like to be….with you, I guess...maybe...wanna be good.”

“And you can be. You are capable of being so perfectly good for me.”

Joseph’s free hand falls, lands on his belt, and it’s fairly clear how he thinks Rook can be “good.” Normally it would grate, Rook never had the patience for men who shoved his face against their cock or offered it up like some sort of lollipop he should be grateful to taste. But with Joseph, right now, still feeling the twinges of envy from seeing the cultists gathered around…

He wants to stake a claim. Just like the one Joseph is slowly but surely staking on him.

“Please,” he murmurs, twisting his head until he can press the flat of his tongue to the bulge behind the zipper. “Please let me suck you off, Daddy.”

“Such a temptation.” Joseph murmurs, almost lovingly, surprisingly dexterous fingers working the belt and button open. “Come on then.”

Rook leans back, jerks to a stop when Joseph’s hand tightens in his hair. He’d expected him to let go, let him do as he pleased, but the grip and the warning in his eyes when Rook looks up says differently. He leans forward once more, until his nose is brushing the fabric, and slowly raises his hands. Joseph doesn’t pull on him this time, sets his feet further apart with a sigh and--Oh.

Right. Joseph is a fucking cult leader. Of course, he’d relish having control.

Doesn’t matter, in the end. Rook gets his pants open, shoved down around his knees, and grips the base of his cock with a shaking hand. He opens his mouth slowly, making a show of it, and presses the thick tip against his tongue, eyes flickering up. 

Joseph’s gaze is _dark_ behind his glasses and there’s a pleased little smile on his lips.

“There you go.” He tugs Rook forward, sinks himself inside with the cooed words. “Such a perfect thing for me. You take my cock beautifully, you know that?”

Rook has to press both hands down, stacked over his cock, to stop himself from coming in his pants. He didn’t figure Joseph had a filthy mouth on top of a filthy mind. Surprises around every fucking corner with this man. 

“Perfect for your Daddy. You just want to be good, don’t you? Just want someone to take you, make you heel.”

Rook makes an affirming sort of sound around the girth of Joseph’s cock--not the thickest he’s ever had but certainly not the thinnest. He’ll have a nice ache in his jaw tomorrow to remember this by. 

“And you thought someone else could give this to you? Thought _anyone_ else could take you to your knees, make you _kneel_ like this?” Joseph snorts, undignified and _human_ for an instant. “You thought Jacob could give you this? Darling, he’d _use_ you. Use you and toss you in the corner, only bring you out when he wanted a compliant little fucktoy.”

Rook groans and gags a bit when the sound opens his throat to Joseph’s sudden thrust. Joseph lets him pull back, gasp for air, but yanks him forward once more the second Rook’s gotten a breath in. 

“I know you think you want that, darling, but you don’t. You want to be able to fight. You want someone to rage against, to put to good use all that _wrath_ inside you. Jacob would put you in your place but I...I’m far more tolerant.”

There’s some sort of warning to be had in Joseph’s filthy talk but Rook can’t quite parse it out, not when Joseph’s hips are rolling forwards and he’s more focused on not choking than thinking. 

“I _want_ you to fight. Want you to resist. I want to have you as I did. Wailing and sobbing because your mind doesn't want it but your _soul_ does. You know your place, Rook. You always have.”

He wants to pull back, pull off, ask Joseph where in the hell he thinks his place is. Because Rook isn’t sure anymore and he’s not certain he’ll like Joseph’s answer but it’d be an answer. Something more than people putting hope and prayers on his shoulders that never quite fit right. 

But Joseph slips his free hand under his chin, pulls him back in with a soft noise, far enough that Rook has to use all his brainpower to concentrate on not gagging instead of thinking. 

“I wanted to be your Father. You started this whole thing, this powderkeg. You broke the seal and you called me your Daddy. And I realized you were not to be by my side in Eden. You were to be _under_ me. On your knees, on your back, wherever I want to have you.”

No. No, that’s--that goes against everything Rook’s been fighting for. It appeals, makes something inside him melt, hips jumping up into the grind of his palms, but it’s not right. It’s not...he shouldn’t want it.

He shouldn’t be here.

“Oh, and how they have poisoned your mind.” Joseph hisses, seeming to read his thoughts, hand gripping Rook’s hair so tightly he can’t move, can’t do anything but blink away the sudden tears. “They have _used_ you. Made you do their bidding without so much as a ‘thanks’ thrown your way.”

He hums, satisfied over the sound of Rook gagging on his cock. 

“Don’t worry, darling. Daddy won’t allow it anymore.”

He tries to speak, tries to say anything to protest. The Resistance hasn’t--of course, they want him to do things. The whole county wants him to do things. He seems, at times, the only person in this fucking state who can do anything on his own. Always on his own, except for when his friends come along to help. 

But it’s not like what Joseph’s accusing. 

It isn’t. 

“I see the doubts in your mind.” Joseph pulls him off so suddenly Rook’s left gasping, lips feeling swollen and tender as he lifts glassy eyes upwards. “I see you considering. Changing your loyalties. You must know where you truly belong, Rook. Right here, at my feet with my cock in your throat. Taking whatever Daddy gives you.”

“I don’t--” He has to clear his throat, emotions and swollen muscles too sensitive for a first try. “You don’t own me.”

“Oh, not yet. But I will. You came here tonight, walked through my compound.” Joseph’s hand works on his cock and Rook bites back the urge to lean forward, bat it away in place of his mouth. “You came to me because I asked you to come to me. You _obeyed_ because, in your soul, you know where you belong.”

“Daddy, I don’t--”

“You don’t need to fight it any longer. You can accept your place here.”

There’s a tenseness to Joseph’s words and it’s the only warning Rook gets. A split second dart of his eyes to the way the muscles over Joseph’s hips go stringent. He slams his eyes closed, tips his head back, opens his mouth as Joseph comes across his face. He’s muttering things, below his breath, praise for Rook and assurance this is where he needs to be, what he needs to be doing.

It’s too much. Too much confusion, too many emotions. Rook opens eyes wet with tears, blinking upwards at the picture Joseph makes in the aftermath. 

“Daddy’s perfect warrior. Darling little lamb.” Joseph cups his face and smears a stripe of come into his cheek. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you? Forsake the others who would lead you away, who would keep you from me.”

He shouldn’t. So many people need his help. He doesn’t agree with the Eden’s Gate creed anyhow, doesn’t believe the end of the world is nigh. But Rook feels like he’s shaking apart, shuddering as his hips work upwards into his hands. 

“I can’t--”

“You needn’t decide right away. You have time.” Joseph hums, but there’s a disappointment to his words. “But you will decide. And I have faith you will choose the right path.”

“Daddy, I--”

“Hush.” Joseph shakes his head, lets go to kneel down in front of Rook, eyes dancing between his face and the way his hands are clasped over his lap. “As I’ve said, you needn’t decide right now. We have far more important things to think about.”

“I want to come.” It’s all he can think about, the only thing pounding through his veins, everything reaching a boiling point and while his orgasm won’t solve it, it’ll make life a hell of a lot easier. 

“Ask nicely.”

“Daddy, _please_.”

Joseph’s smile is soft and slow and _victorious_. Rook can feel the Earth shifting underneath him, his kink becoming something far more in the hands of a man as intelligent, as cunning, as Joseph Seed. 

But right now the future doesn’t matter. He can’t focus on it. All he can think about is coming, shaking apart under Joseph’s gaze once again. Everything else--the Resistance, his allies, _everything_ \--isn’t as important as his Daddy giving him exactly what he’s been begging for. 

Which, in hindsight, was when Rook will tell people he fell. In a church, on his knees in front of the Father. Seeing the light. He won’t tell them he’d been having doubts since a night in a dingy home. Won’t mention he’d fallen so hard, so fast, when someone offered a hand that he almost missed it. 

He’ll just say his _Father_ showed him the light, with a smile on his face and the memories of Joseph’s hands on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see the plans for Kinktober? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
